


The Right Motivation

by Morgana



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Public Sex, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Playing pretend takes a very real turn and Angel discovers he really doesn't mind</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Motivation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chikanelove](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=chikanelove).



“What a magnificent animal! Such power, such brute strength... he must be quite a handful to manage.” Angel glared up at the speaker, just like he had the other six men who apparently couldn't resist commenting, but like the ones before him, the man took no notice, and a hard thump on the top of his skull made him turn his gaze back to the floor.

A hand slid into his hair, fingers combing through the strands in a careful way that turned the otherwise gentle caress into an unmistakable show of possession. “Not all that hard, mate,” Spike drawled. “Just gotta keep a firm hand on the reins, show him who's boss, yeah?” He tugged, pulling Angel's head back enough to expose the black band around his throat. “Course, doesn't hurt to make sure anybody who might get ideas knows that, either.”

The mild tone of his voice was belied by the hard look he turned on the man, who nodded and made his excuses, then hurried away from their table. Angel shifted, wincing at the ache in his knees, wondering again why he'd let himself get talking into this. It was all Spike's fault, really - investigations had never included cock rings, butt plugs, and a handful of straps that passed for an outfit before his childe had fallen back into his life. But let Spike show up, and things went straight to hell. And if Angel were really honest, he had to admit that he might not have minded so much if _he'd_ been the one wearing the leather pants and boots instead of the one trussed up like a kinky birthday present. Who'd ever heard of rock, scissors, paper to figure out undercover assignments, anyway?!?

“What d'you think, hmm?” Spike mused quietly. “This bloke ever gonna show, or was this whole thing just to show me how good you look kneelin' at my feet?”

Angel gritted his teeth and did his best to keep calm. Blowing up was probably exactly what Spike wanted, and he wasn't about to have this job ruined, not when he'd gone to these lengths for it. “See, that's why I wanted you for the slave,” he ground out. “You're prettier, and he's more likely to pay attention to someone that looks like you.”

The fingers still twined in his hair tightened briefly. “Easy there, mate. That's my pet you're talkin' about, an' I'm not about to have him put down in my hearin'.”

“Yeah, well, _your pet_'s been on his knees for almost two hours now, and he has to get up for work in the morning,” Angel groused. “So how about calling it a night, huh?”

“You know, any slave of mine that spoke to me in such a manner would be quite soundly thrashed,” a low voice that wasn't Spike's said above him. “That is, if they weren't immediately dismissed. But then, maybe you lack the steel necessary to impose the discipline someone like your pet, here, needs.”

Angel's spine stiffened and he glanced over at Spike, half-expecting to find the blond rigid with fury at hearing his prowess denigrated in such a manner. But he just lounged back in his chair and grinned up at the man, raising his glass in a salute. “Can't all be lord an' master of all we survey, can we? An' while I might not be into the whole poncy ritual that you lot favor, I get my point across.”

“Do you?”

The amused drawl drew an answering chuckle from Spike. He jerked his chin at the seat opposite him, holding his glass up to signal the waitress for another round. “Have a seat, Darte - assumin' you can sit down with that stick shoved so far up your ass that it's pokin' your brain.”

Darte moved around to take the offered chair, and as he sat down, Angel got his first look at the other man. He hated him on sight, although he couldn't have said if it was the long white-blond hair that was just a few shades lighter than Spike's, the pale blue eyes that almost looked silver, the muscular build, or the casual aplomb that he carried off his leather pants and crisp white shirt. Angel wondered irritably if leather pants were some sort of uniform to get into the club - after all, everybody here was either in leather or almost nothing at all. He fidgeted as those cool eyes glanced at him, suddenly uncomfortably aware of his utter lack of anything even approaching clothing, but a hard tug from Spike made him stop.

“He really isn't trained at all, is he?” Darte commented idly.

Spike glowered in return. “Trained to what I like, an' that's all that matters. Never did fancy all that bowin' an' scrapin' you make your girl do.” He glanced around briefly, then raised an eyebrow as he shot Darte a pointed look. “Speakin' of which, where is the little treat? Wouldn't mind sayin' hello.”

“Elantra is with my sire tonight.” The other man's voice was pure ice, and Angel couldn't repress the hope that Spike would manage to drive him off by being his usual annoying self. “And, not that it's really any of your business, but she happens to _like_ the 'bowing and scraping', as you so eloquently put it.” The waitress brought the drinks by, and Darte waited until she'd retreated before continuing. “A little ritual could make all the difference in the world for your boy, you know.”

“Don't need ritual,” Spike retorted, holding up a hand when his companion started to protest. “Don't have to whip him bloody to get him to mind, either, so your bleedin' heart can quit worryin' about his hide. Got my own methods, don't I, an' they work just fine.”

Darte sipped his drink, studying both Spike and Angel calmly over the rim. “And what, pray tell, might those be?” he asked coolly.

Spike smirked. “Was hopin' you'd ask that, actually.” Angel felt his stomach tighten at the pure glee that filled his childe's tone. “Kneel up a bit for me, pet,” he instructed Angel. “Legs spread, feet apart, just like I taught you. Don't want our friend here thinkin' you don't know how to act right, do we?”

It was either comply or risk blowing their cover by refusing, and he wasn't about to see the night's humiliation wasted just because he couldn't pretend to take orders for a few hours. Angel gritted his teeth and shifted into position, hands automatically moving behind his back. He felt leather brush his fingers as Spike moved in his chair, and understood why when Spike's foot slid between his legs an instant later. A tap of one boot made the plug inside him shift, pulling a gasp from him that made both men above him chuckle.

“See? Just gotta give him the right incentive, know which buttons to hit,” Spike said, bumping the plug again. “Truth is, my boy's a slut. Do anythin' to get off, doesn't matter where or what else is goin' on.” He tugged lightly on Angel's hair, pulling his head back. “Give us a show, pet. Ride my foot.”

Angel glared up at him, but another hard tap nearly made him forget why. He scooted back a bit, until he could feel Spike's boot pressing up against him, then curled his fingers around Spike's ankle to hold him steady. It felt odd and uncomfortable, and he was sure the first jerky thrust of his hips was far from erotic, but with every movement he made, the plug shifted, each brush of it against his prostate making the movement easier. Spike never looked away, his eyes a dark blue that seemed to burn right into him, and when the first whimper escaped, the fingers in his hair pulled harder, sending a bolt of electricity right down his spine. He squirmed against the hard leather of Spike's boot, biting his lip to hold back a moan as his dick twitched.

“Quite a remarkable change, really,” Darte commented. Angel glanced over at the other man as Spike reached for his drink, and the small smile he saw on his thin lips made him really want to hit him. Of course, that would mean not only blowing his cover, but getting off of Spike's boot, so... maybe later.

“Ain't seen nothin' yet - he's just gettin' started.” He thought for sure that Spike was about to push him far enough to break cover, but instead the blond just took a swallow of his drink and asked, “You see the match yesterday with Italy an' Portugal? Gotta tell ya, can't stand most of the poncy dagos, but they know what they're about on the football field.”

The conversation turned to the World Cup, and as the two men discussed the merits of various teams and despaired once more over England's chances for a title, Angel continued to rock against Spike's foot, riding the leather and lace of his boot as he'd been instructed. Every so often, Spike would flex up against him, or tap his foot to give him an extra little bump, and it wasn't long before Angel completely lost track of everything but the plug, the boot, and his own aching dick. His fingers itched to touch, and he squeezed Spike's ankle to keep from reaching down to stroke himself. Not that it would do any good, anyway, as tight as Spike had fastened the cock ring. He'd been grateful for that earlier, knowing that it was the only thing that kept him hard as they walked into the club, but now it was torturing him. Spike could keep him like this until they left, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Good heavens, he's really worked himself up into a state,” he heard Darte say, the voice drifting down to him as though from some great distance. Suddenly he saw himself as though through the other man's eyes - wantonly riding Spike's boot, his eyes heavy-lidded and face slack with pleasure, nipples drawn tight into burning buds, cock straining against the ring that restrained him, leaking and twitching as he moved. The amusement and rising excitement he could see in those light blue eyes, along with the heady scent of Spike's own arousal, sent Angel into a near frenzy of desire, his skin prickling beneath the heat in the eyes he could feel watching him from all over the club. A broken moan tore free, and he thrust back, speeding up until he was moving even faster, hips jerking in needy snaps that sent fire racing through him. “Surely you're not going to leave him like that all night?”

He heard a heavy thunk as Spike set his glass down. “Wouldn't dream of it. Course, he's gonna have to work for it - can't have him gettin' too used to the good life, can we?” His hand slid down to circle Angel's throat, fingers squeezing slightly, still gentle but with a threat of more that made the brunet moan and shudder helplessly. “Turn around, pet.”

Any thought of disobedience had long since vanished from Angel's mind, leaving only the need for more of whatever he could get. He bit back a whimper as he moved off Spike's foot and shifted around to face him, kneeling between his open legs. The blond's long fingers slid over the buttons of his fly, popping each one slowly open until he could reach in to pull his erect cock out. Angel stared, fascinated, as Spike slowly pumped his length, his tongue darting out to wet his lips without thinking. “Want some candy, pet?” Spike asked hoarsely, and Angel nodded, licking his lips again.

Spike released his dick and reached out to guide him down, moaning softly as Angel's mouth closed around him. He made no move to set any kind of pace, though, so Angel decided to take the chance to explore. He swirled his tongue around the tip in a slow circle, then sucked hard before sliding down a little further, letting the musky scent and slightly bitter flavor of Spike take over his senses. Pulling back, he teased his childe's foreskin back with his tongue, then licked at the exposed head with quick little flicks of his tongue until he heard a hissed, “Fuck!” from above.

His own dick throbbed in sympathetic need as he sucked hard again and then slid further down, taking it slowly until he could feel Spike's cock nudging at the back of his throat. The thought of having it in his throat, hard and thick, filling him completely, made him shiver, but he forced himself to back off again and tease the tip some more. Spike coughed, obviously trying to keep from moaning at the attention Angel was lavishing on the sensitive head, but it was pretty clearly a losing battle. He heard Darte say something, although the words didn't register, his brain too drunk on Spike to focus on anything else.

When he couldn't stand the teasing anymore, he ducked down, opening his throat to allow him to take Spike in to the hilt. Dark curls tickled his nose, but Angel didn't think he could've forced himself back if he had to. He moaned, the muffled sound drawing an answering groan from Spike as the vibration made the cock in his mouth jump. Spike stroked his hair, then moved to cradle his skull, holding him still as the blond began to slowly rock his hips up, fucking his mouth with short strokes. Heavy panting above told him that any attempt at conversation had been abandoned, and when Spike started to mutter, “Yeah, fuck, such a good cocksucker you are,” Angel knew that his orgasm wasn't too far off. Spike never had been able to keep his mouth shut in bed, and the closer he got to coming, the mouthier he got. It was something that used to drive him nuts, but now, with no choice but to kneel and listen, he couldn't deny that it was erotic as hell.

He shook Spike's hand off long enough to pull back and flick his tongue directly over the leaking tip, and the result was electric. “Shit, pet, right there!” Spike gasped, shoving his head down, holding him still as his cock hardened further. Angel fastened his lips around the base of his cock and sucked hard, and Spike's low moan was the only warning he got before he felt his cock jerk, shooting thick streams of come down his throat as the other man came. He groaned as he felt his dick twitch, knowing that only the goddamn cock ring was keeping him from coming right along with the blond, and contented himself with drawing every drop he could get out of Spike instead.

Since he wasn't immediately ordered off, he licked and suckled gently at the softening flesh, shuddering as Spike lazily petted him, fingers carding through his hair with an almost loving touch. “Good boy,” Spike murmured, the raspy tones of his voice sliding over the older man like warm honey. Like this, in the aftermath of feeling his childe's pleasure, Angel found himself almost believing in the roles they were playing. He was still hard as a rock, his dick aching in a way that threatened to steal his reason, but it seemed almost secondary to the knowledge that he'd pleased Spike. Nothing else really mattered- not the job, or the man that sat across from them, or the fact that he'd just sucked his childe off in the middle of one of the most popular demon bars in Los Angeles. Angel knew this total immersion was something that should worry him, and probably would tomorrow, but he could deal with that later. Right now the only thing he was concerning himself with was trying to find a way to get Spike to take him over to one of the play stations and fuck him senseless.


End file.
